


The Opposite of Breaking

by CrimsonFootsteps



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe Tony Stark - Freeform, Dark Tony Stark, Emperor Loki, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, the theme of this story is healing and the theme trumps obvious linear plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-18 23:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFootsteps/pseuds/CrimsonFootsteps
Summary: Sensing a potentially multi-universal danger in the making, an alternate universe Steve Rogers comes to our main universe to fix things.*Tags will change and be added.  There will be a lot of relationships in this fic and, eventually, as much porn as plot: aka a TON.





	1. New York, New York

"You are certain this is the epicenter, my love?"

They stood on a street that filled Steve Rogers with the most immense, the most jagged nostalgia, if you could somehow feel nostalgia for a place that you had technically never known. Maybe deja vu was a better term, Steve thought. The streets were bright and clear, with familiar smells and sounds woven through new ones, none of the signs quite right, the shops different than the ones he knew, but all in all it was the Manhattan he remembered, only viewed through the lens of distorted time and distance. It made his heart ache, and made him respond a little bit slowly to the question he was asked.

Cool metal touched his cheek as his lover tilted his head. The artificial hand's claw tips pressed at his face without a hint that they might hurt it. Loki's green eyes were understanding, searching. "Steven?"

"I'm sorry," he said, and cleared his throat when his voice came out rough with emotion. "It's just... memories."

"I understand." Loki's other hand came up, the leather gloved thumb smoothed over one of Steve's cheekbones. "But I should not tarry here long. My power does not sit upon a universe lightly. Is this the epicenter of the dread you found?"

Steve cupped his hand, the gloved one, with his own and leaned into the metal one, briefly, before he fished the detector out of his jacket pocket and thumbed it on. He stared in disbelief as numbers bled across the screen, vivid and far too high.

"Yes, sir. It most certainly is."

Loki glanced around him and then stroked Steve's short sandy hair, thumb curled over the edge of his ear. "I hope that this place's resemblance to your home town will bring you pleasure rather than pain," he said, and pulled Steve close to him, soft lips brushed against one eyebrow. "I will return in three days to gauge your progrss. I hope you will have finished by then."

"Me, too," Steve said. He leaned his mouth up, inviting, and Loki's lowered in a claiming, devouring kiss. Steve's fingers threaded through the ends of his long, silver-shot black hair.

Then Loki turned, and as if he were a soap bubble from the Wizard of Oz, shimmered in the street in the broad daylight and vanished.

Steve drew in a deep breath and let himself feel, for just a moment, the weight of everything pressing on his heart just then. He let himself stand in a street, in a neighborhood, a city, a country, a world that didn't exist anymore in his universe. Let himself smell car exhaust and the fresh pizza from a joint down the street. Let himself hear a dozen languages, loud and fast, cab horns, a distant airplane hum headed toward the airport.

He let himself think just for one split second that it wasn't fair that he'd had all this taken away from him, then he shoved that bitching straight back into the back of his skull, tossed it away like the garbage it was, and focused on what needed to be done. There was an eruption here, and a bad one. If he didn't stop it soon, there was likely to be an entire conversion.

If the detector was any indication, the source was a building a few miles away. Steve mentally cursed that he hadn't been able to give Loki a better reference, because while he had been able to replicate the sort of clothes people wore on Earth, though by the looks of things his fashion sense was not exactly on par, he didn't have anything like American dollars. He had never had enough money that he remembered how it looked with the absolute clarity necessary for Loki to reproduce it. But it was a long distance, and Steve didn't relish what his legs and his lungs would feel like once he hoofed it there.

There was no choice in the matter, so he simply began to walk. One foot ahead of the other, hands in his pockets, drinking in the pleasure of a world he thought he'd never see again, even if it were odd and changed. Although there was something of a time limit involved, he allowed himself to peek into a cafe here or a record store there, the old familiar contours of New York folded around him like heart-wrenching origami.

Then he heard a sound which was far more familiar than the others, shrieks and screams of distress and fear, coming from a short distance ahead of himself. He had a weapon, tucked into his jeans pocket. Loki had insisted on that. He started to run, headed fast into the fray. Whatever this was, he wouldn't let anyone be hurt if he could help it. Not in this or any other universe.

He tripped a little on uneven concrete once or twice, but soon enough he reached the edge of the conflict, where a huddle of gawkers already stood. He slipped the weapon from his pocket, though he kept it concealed in his hand where ordinary people who shouldn't see such a thing wouldn't comment on its presence. Carefully, he tried to wedge his skinny form through the crowd in order to see what was going on.

He saw a flash of brilliant blue light- lethal energy if he had ever seen it, and raised the weapon, only to see the light refracted as a wide round metal shield rose in the air in front of the pulsing crowd. A cheer rose up around him.

A very tall, muscular and handsome man crouched before them, where he had rolled and rose to block the attack. He wore a suit that was the American colors, and the shield was very much the same. The crowd knew him, loved him. "Captain!" they called out.

He glanced back, and Steve's heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach as he saw the shape of the face beneath the mask, saw the blue eyes. Somehow, this man looked like every fantasy he had ever had of what he might look like. He was Steve, but perfect: big, muscular, powerful, beautiful.

Their eyes met and the other man's gaze wavered too, went numb and glassy, before he visibly steeled himself and turned back into the fray. Steve swallowed hard and made himself do the same. Just because this man resembled the superman didn't mean he had the battle won.

He pushed his way through the crowd again and watched as this perfect him battled another creature, one with a gun something of a crap prototype of his own. He kept an eye on the crowd and the edges of the streets, wary for the next shoe to drop, and was unsurprised when a second figure, similarly dressed to the first, emerged down a fire escape, aiming at his doppelganger.

He ducked around behind a parked car to hide his weapon from the crowd and fired fast, the first shot landing true and downing the would be assassin. His beautiful alternate took down his own enemy next and restrained him, then dove up the fire escape to do the same to the other. He checked his pulse first; Steve frowned. Of course he wouldn't have killed the man. With that one also secured, the other Steve, the magic mirror one, went back down and walked straight toward him.

He had a stern, set expression on his face, a deep frown.

"What are you?" was the first thing he said. He had one hand on Steve's shoulder, and it was clear from only the pressure of his fingers that he was much stronger than Steve was, and that short of shooting him, Steve wasn't going to slip that grasp.

Steve tried to anyway, on reflex. "I'm a human," he said flatly. "An ordinary, garden-variety human." He winced as he tried to duck out of the other man's grasp and fingers dug in enough to bruise. "And also, you're hurting me."

The alternate Steve's answering wince was identical. He loosened his grip. "How is this... possible?" he asked, more quietly. "We need to... we need to talk somewhere private." He gave a meaningful glance at the crowd. Bright flashes were already coming up around them; they looked like camera flash but seemed to be coming from phones.

"All right," Steve agreed. He let himself be guided past the crowd, through a cordon and to a waiting vehicle. He didn't let himself be guided into it, though, he placed one hand on the roof and stopped, looking straight into the costumed man's bright blue eyes.

"You look like I looked before the serum," the other man said.

"Serum?" Steve echoed. "Is that why you... why you look like everything I ever wanted to look like?"

He could see the adam's apple bob as the other man swallowed and swallowed hard. Could see the discomfort in his face as he half looked away. "So you're me, somehow," he said. "From an...?"

"An alternate universe, yes," Steve supplied. Then, because the other him looked so forlorn, and so at a loss, he wrapped his arms around him, digging his arms in deep and tight, not worried he'd hurt somebody that big and strong no matter how hard he hugged him. After a moment, arms curled around him back, stroking his back.

"Hey," Steve said, "you looked amazing like that, with that shield of yours. I'm going to carry that with me, for the rest of my life."

The other Steve's arms tightened around him. "I'm not going to forget that you had my back either," he growled.

They pulled away. There was something fresh and shining in the other man's eyes but Steve didn't comment on it. The alternate said, "But I do need to know why you're here."

Steve nodded. "Since it looks like you're a protector of this world, yes. Yes, you do."


	2. Costs of Heroism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody's a tease in this episode, but there will be a full sex scene in the next. If, yanno, that's what you all want...

They sat across from each other in the limousine, each showing an equal uncomfortable shift from the vehicle itself, each shifting uncomfortably on the buttery leather seats.

The other Steve said, "So how did you... come to be cataloguing intergalactic disasters?" His voice sounded uncertain, even disused, in the back of the limo.

Steve flicked a gaze his way and twitched his lips in an approximation of a smile. He clutched his instruments and leaned back into the upholstery, then said, "I tried to join the army. Washed out. Went back home, tried to do everything I could do. Make, you know, needles. Gather bottle caps."

Alternate Steve winced.

He continued: I was on my way to a friend who was a liaison to one of the larger factories, and we were going to help bolster his resources, when a nine foot fall tattooed person appeared in front of me, immediately shrieking obscenities. A moment later, another man appeared."

The other Steve swallowed. "He was... powerful. He defeated his enemy, but his blood touched me. When he tried to return to his world, that tether pulled me with him. He... I was trained in physics and the understanding of a thousand worlds, as the different worlds opened up to me."

He paused. "Sorry. I'm not really explaining this clearly."

He knew what he needed to say, what was invaluable to understanding this, but he did not want to be subjected to the negative emotions and bigotries he remembered from childhood.

"Do we still have a problem with homosexuality?" he asked suddenly, and his voice was colder than he realized it could be.

His alternate shook his head quickly, and he relaxed, though only by a small fraction. He spoke slowly. "My universe is ruled by Loki." He didn't stop at the other's reaction, a harsh intake of breath, but went on, fast,- " _Emperor_ Loki. His world was destroyed when he was a child, but he fought and became strong and defeated the one who had murdered his family. Anyway, when I was in the hub world I learned a lot about universal physics, things that seem like magic but are science. I restructured a few devices and straightened up a few ops.

"The Emperor took notice of me and I..." His adam's apple bobbed. "I took notice of the Emperor."

_Loki is tall and graceful, clothed in black and green and silver. His long hair is prematurely dusted with silver threads, thickest by his right temple. He has fair skin emphasized by his clothing, by his mostly black hair, and by the lighting, which does him no favors, making his light skin shimmer like metal._

_His face, which most know better than to stare at, is burned badly on the right side, almost down to the bone. Most is hidden beneath his hair. Yet, Steve sees it and his stomach clenches. He also sees the metal fingers move below his sleeve._

_But Loki's eyes are bright, and clear, and in them are universes of control and power, and when Steve meets them, he is won, like territory conquered._

_He steps forward without thinking of the consequences, and he talks to Loki of the worlds and their dimensions, and they play chess, and Loki teaches him things about reality that make him shudder in nightmares for years._

_And somehow, Loki finds something in him to admire, smiles whenever he sees him, and touches him and his gentle yet demanding entreaties transform Steve into something wanton, something that expects the love he receives, and is still uncomfortable about it._

"There are many knowledges about the worlds, technologies beyond humanity," he said quickly. "I learned a lot of them on my own and more in New Asgard. How did... you come to be a super soldier?"

The other Steve swallowed. "So I was drummed out... and..."

*

There were training dummies, made of wood, with several outcroppings and branches. Bucky had one ordered that was metal, and he worked the various martial arts he remembered, one after the other. He hit a bit harder with his artificial arm, but he was strong enough to tap and strike with proper skill and shape with even his human hand. He kicked it too, hard, his boots reverberating on the stand, sending pain through the leather to the flesh underneath.

He only had to close his eyes to have enough frustrations, enough anger, these days. Steve was trying, Bucky _knew_ Steve was trying, but Steve didn't have the emotional experience to understand what-

The door opened.

The sound was quiet, a gentle snick, and the weighted crack and metal groan of Bucky's fists and feet against the dummy was loud. But he was nothing if not alert, attentive, and he heard the lock in the door and stopped. He turned.

Steve entered first, and this soothed the nerves that rode him fast toward a killing edge. It was too easy, now, to respond with instinct, to slice an approaching set of footprints and the man or woman they came attached to, right to the ground.

"There's someone with me," Steve said, with no preamble. He reached out and grasped the forearm of Bucky's good arm. His eyes were bright, blue and steady. Bucky took in a deep breath.

"What's the problem?" he said.

Steve half-glanced behind him. His lips curved, a twitch at the edge that was potentially nervous or apologetic. "Alternate universe," he said flatly, filling out the words so clearly Bucky couldn't mistake them for anything else, "Me. Pre-serum. Scared, a little, I think. But very smart. Very... good at what he does. Here to fix things."

Bucky stared at him. _How did Steve think putting him with someone like Steve had been, before... was a good idea?_

"Why would you--?" he began, harshly.

"He lost you," Steve said, a little uncertainty breaking in his voice. "You lost me. I thought you-"

"Oh Christ." Bucky squeezed Steve's arm until even Cap would have little dime-sized bruises, then steeled himself, drew in a breath, and went into the next room.

He had been telling himself that it wouldn't be easy, and it wasn't. Old memories flooded back and they were physically painful after everything, after the devices and the therapies... they ached.

And the young man who looked just like Steve Rogers prior to the World War looked at Bucky like he'd just seen an angel, and that hurt too. That made him sick. He didn't want to explain to _another damn best friend_ all the horrors he'd been responsible for or all the reasons he ought to have sunk into the sea.

The other Steve chuckled, suddenly, and it drew Bucky from his reverie. "Does everyone I love need to get a metal arm?" he muttered.

Bucky processed that. _Wait, someone else has a_ - _Wait, he just said he-_

He stared with narrowed eyes at the new Steve. Then he shook his head. "Steve- my Steve- said the world's in danger. So stop flirting with me and start explaining your plan."

*

"No," Tony Stark said softly.

"No?" whispered the god of chaos, biting the back of his throat gently.

One of Loki's elegant, strong hands tugged his tee shirt down in the front of his chest. The other cupped his hip hard, digging bruises in just below the ribs.

"Not a... chance..." Tony whispered.

Loki's lips curled and his hand, caught in the shirt collar, dragged up Tony's throat, cupped roughly around it. His nails teased the skin.

"Zero probability, Stark?" Loki purred.

Tony made a high, faint, pleased sound but clamped down on it quickly. "Ze-zero-" he said.

Loki dragged his nails across Stark's scalp and pulled the ends of his hair, hard. He pulled him firmly back to hiss in his ear, "I grow bored of your recalcitrance. Would you like me to _make_ you obey?"

Tony's adam's apple bobbed and he jolted up on his knees. He loved the burn against his scalp as Loki exerted more and more pressure. Then he gasped as sharp teeth found his earlobe, nipped and the pulled.

Loki dragged his nails down Tony's ribs.

"Answer..." Tony said weakly, "... is still no."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Fine," he said coldly. He spanked Tony sharply, hard enough to leave a welt, and to make Tony pant pleasurably. "I'll ask again soon."


	3. Passion's Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU!Steve and the Avengers deal with the anomaly, but with unfortunate side effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introduces an AU Tony Stark. Also an explicit AU!Steve/Tony sex scene. Because this is the polyest of poly fics, my dears, and there is so much more to come.
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this chapter.

"I'm sorry," the man that Steve had been introduced to as Anthony Stark said, in a brusque tone that didn't actually convey any apology at all. "What you're saying-" He cut off to look at Captain Rogers, and fixed him with a stare.

"What he's saying- is that he... he does this? They just skate through different Universes fixing things that are going to make them, what, explode?"

"Stark-" the other Steve sighed, deflating slightly.

Steve felt much the same way. He was used to his theories, his inventions, being examined critically; he was only human after all. What he wasn't used to was all the arguments, the nit-picking every single detail of everyone's plan, when time was very clearly running out. "Yes, this isn't the first time I've made this specific call. It's actually the third. But I don't-"

Stark cut him off again, extending one arm palm up along the large circular table. "I want to see it."

Steve blinked at him.

Stark stared him down, his features steady and cool, and made grabby hands with the palm, fingers palpating up and down. "Come on, give over."

It made Steve feel a little protective of his own technology. He knew Anthony Stark was a genius at such things, and a few chairs over Doctor Banner looked as if he eagerly anticipated a look himself. His fingers clutched the device a little more tightly. He only realized how on edge he was when the other Steve put a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you just... let him see it?" he said.

Steve swallowed, then placed the device into Stark's hand. The grabby fingers abruptly stopped, and that toddlerly attitude disappeared as Stark's hand snapped over with hand-eye coordination that made a trickle of envy pool in Steve's belly, and immediately, with an attention that turned his eyes from the flat, unwelcoming dark orbs they had been to something soft, almost... welcoming. Of the tech, anyway. Not of Steve. He sat there for several minutes in absolute silence, operating the device. Steve felt a grudging admiration for the fact that he hadn't gotten a single thing gone, had in fact figured out every button on technological nous and some strange instinct. It was fascinating, and he realized that he and the other Steve were staring without saying a word, waiting, only when Natasha Romanov interjected.

"Well, Tony?" she asked. Or well, it didn't sound like an 'asked.' It sounded like a demand, the slight interrogative as necessarily for politeness' sake, but a demand nonetheless. And it startled Stark out of his reverie.

He glanced up, his lips slightly slack, his eyelashes fluttering. "Oh," he said, "Oh, it's definitely real. I mean..." Without asking Steve's permission, he slid the device across the table to Banner. "Bruce will back me up here; he's done a lot more research with Asgardian tech. But this is Asgardian tech, _kind of._ It's like, a little smaller, a little sleeker, and _definitely_ designed by a human. Everything works in a way I find really natural and integrated, and that wouldn't be the case with pure alien tech. In fact, Capsicle,-" he delivered to the other Steve, in a tone of fond teasing, "-I would _not_ have expected it of you."

The Other Steve put his hand on Steve's shoulder again, grounding, protective. Proud? "He studied for almost a century with the greatest minds in his universe. Trying to make a difference. Sound familiar?"

Tony swallowed then, and they made eye contact. For the first time, Steve didn't mind it. Stark's eyes were still demanding, exhaustingly direct, but they had a little bit of respect in them now, a little bit of gentleness.

Barton spoke up. "Okay. So it's genuine. 'Sthat mean _he's_ genuine?"

"I think so," the Other Steve said firmly.

"That's been exceedingly obvious, Captain Rogers," Vision said, his tone as stern as it was gentle. "Nonetheless, while we have experienced visitors from other planets, other universes are still a relatively alien occurrence."

Steve shook his head. "Doctor Banner, if you can read that device, if you agree that it's genuine, you can attest to the timer that it's ticking down. I don't even know if the first treatment will work, but if we wait, it's bound to become worse. I promise that I'll stay here, answer any questions, endure any tests. You can guard me 24/7 if you want to. But we _need_ to deal with that anomaly."

He expected more argument, more hard questions. But instead, the Avengers exchanged a long look, each eye contact showing answers and questions and assertions beyond what Steve could read. It was intimate, and he looked back down at his hands, so puny and white against the silver table compared to everyone else's. Then he was surprised when Stark grabbed his wrist, turned it over, and dropped the device back into his palm. He slapped Steve's shoulder, not too hard. "Lead on, MacDuff," he said jovially, and then turned, genuinely concerned, to add quickly, "and don't tell me that's a misquote. Pepper has already told me _multiple_ times that it's a misquote. But I haven't managed to think of a good nickname for an alternate universe egghead Cap yet."

Steve got up, slipping the device back into his pocket, and followed, unsure, as the others chose vehicles. Nothing too fancy, but two vans nonetheless, the better to have technological options. "And someone ought to contact Point Break," Stark added. "Because apparently he's a king now or something."

*

Steve was surprised that not the entire group came with him in the van. The others had separate destinations. Of course, once he thought about it, the choice made perfect sense. This was just a warehouse, and the biggest concern the Avengers had was that they understood the exact dimensions and issues the anomaly would cause and that they could be sure that Steve wasn't actually betraying them when he tried to fix it.

He was a little surprised that Doctor Banner wasn't in attendance, and didn't get a very good answer about that. He was, however, not surprised that he was attended by Stark, Vision, Romanov, and the other Steve, who did not seem to be willing to leave his side. Perhaps he was as afraid as everyone else, or even moreso, that Steve would prove to be treacherous. After all, he had vouched for him very publically. But Steve had a job to do and he couldn't worry about any of them, even the synthetic man who fascinated and terrified him all at once, much as the Emperor himself did. He had to focus upon his task.

The first time he had attempted this, they had misjudged the power that the Emperor possessed. Not all universes' Lokis bent reality in that way. They all, mostly anyway, in his experience, knew how to twist it, to make time and space relatively malleable, to transform on occasion cars into ice cream cones or to enforce loyalty with the blink of an eye. But his Loki's presence had made the anomaly twist, green flashing at its depths, as if the sheer power he'd earned as All-Father and _so, so_ much else made these unravelling threads collapse and un-skein, wrapped around the spindle of Loki's power and opening further, further.

 _This_ was why his beloved had not been present at the last ones, though he used his gifts to bring Steve where he needed to go. For a moment, as Steve carefully approached the anomaly, he took care to monitor it and how it responded to Vision as well. Vision was very, very powerful, and in a way that felt strange to Steve, but it seemed almost immediately that this was not a power that was inimical or alien to this universe. It was almost a grounding force. Steve himself certainly felt more comfortable in the Vision's presence. He drew in a breath, and began rather than codifying the anomaly, to scan its weakest points. He knew, with the experience of having performed this duty before, that the act of invading those points, of destroying the anomaly, would be exceptionally unpleasant. _Bad as bad can be,_ he thought, but it wasn't really. It would be a lot worse if the anomaly got out of control.

He remembered that too. Didn't want it for the people around him. Especially the other Steve, whose strong arms he still remembered around him. Could someone who was really him feel like a brother?

There were three very dark spots within the anomaly. Dense, eating at the fabric of the universe as if they were acid, or a thousand piranhas biting with their flesh-devouring teeth. A little worse, and there would be white spots already, opening to the between places, or Purgatory, or Hell, or even- worst case scenario- another Universe, and that would have been unconscionably bad. Steve removed his pistol and switched the energy current from what worked to knock out humanoids to what worked to disperse nasty ugly non-resident energy.

"Wait, you're just going to _shoot_ it?" said Romanov.

Steve nodded. "We've found a frequency that can disperse or de-energize the worst particles of the anomaly. Actually, I'm sure that after I fire this device, Vision can replicate the frequency and hit one of the other nodules. Actually, I think Stark's suit probably can too. Do you all want to try dispersing it at once?"

He thought it was such a good idea. All in one. And he had never really been on a team, and he loved the wild, excited look Stark gave him and the calm measuring nod from Vision. It felt like he'd been accepted. When they all fired, almost in concert, Steve a little bit first, it felt amazing. And the fireworks when the anomaly eroded under their focus were beautiful, bright nebulas and shifting patterns of deep blue and sunset-cloud-orange and bright white. Even after Steve blinked, the last of it left grey-white serpents coiling at the back of his eyelids.

And they were all smiling. And it didn't occur to him to think they put too much power to bear, did it too violently. Because Anthony Stark wass saying, "I'm going to take you to dinner!"

*

"Ugh." A. E. Stark had a splitting headache, but that wasn't the cause of the blatant disgust in the monosyllable he spat. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the transition, and the bright brilliancy, blurred by distance and rain, formed itself into the streets of a retro New York. Something old and unmarked, like a failed textbook.

"You've got to be kidding me," he growled. He reached up and tested the knot of pain at the back of his head and winced. It was still tender. He was concerned about a concussion, but not overly so. There were treatments for that, especially if he could find his way out of this backwoods, podunk little approximation of his city, and the first step to finding that was to figure out precisely what had drawn him there.

He'd been _feeding_ , he remembered. Drinking in the sweet natural nectar of the universe itself. Not his universe, of course. Others. Stupid ones, like this one. Blocky and dull and full of pretentious lowlives who hadn't yet learned what it meant to be subject to Stark. Like the animals who had tortured him and damaged his heart so terribly that he _needed_ that power, that universal arc core, to survive.

His lips twitched into a snarl. He'd been interrupted in his feeding. For a moment, it was almost as if he were sucking down twice as much energy as usual, and then it was torn away, leaving him gasping, gaping. His core was actually blinking now, and he felt dizzy for more than one reason when he rose to his feet. He was not in the mood for visitors, especially those who had apparently mistaken him for whatever ridiculous counterpart had let this world grow so clunky and overgrown. This was, however, what he received.

He heard no sound, and his core was far too weak for any of his suit's abilities to function, but he heard a silky baritone purr out from behind him: "An interesting look for you, Stark. Difficult night?"

Well, whomever this was, A. E. had no interest in informing him that he had the wrong Stark. No, this was a potential opportunity, until such time as he was able to properly bolster his power. He smiled and turned, taking in a very tall, pale man- quite handsome, he noted,- in gold and green armor, with a tall horned helm. "That's the understatement of the century," he said, and smiled, and put on the charm.

The other man reached up and stroked A. E.'s cheek with the tips of his leather gloved fingers. His eyes were warm but also infinitely dark, promising the sort of pleasure that involved a good deal of screaming out. "Have you considered my request?"

A. E. reached up and cupped the back of the delicate wrist. "How about you pretend," he said, "that I don't know what request you're talking about, and pitch it to me again?"

The smooth leather curled behind his ear, but the thumb pressed into his neck hard, not quite at the carotid but so close that A. E. felt his heartbeat hammer into terror. The fingertips at the base of his neck could dislocate his spine just as easily. This man was immensely strong, nearly as powerful as A. E. was in the suit. And he wasn't, clearly, the type of man who put up with nonsense when it was delivered with batted eyelashes and a charming smile.

"You want to hear," the man said, in a voice like liquid silk, if this could somehow possess a razor-sharp edge, "my pitch?"

Fingers tightened. A. E.'s own hand spasmed on the golden gauntleted wrist.

It was at that moment the weakness in his own reactor hit him, and his knees buckled. Though he hated showing such weakness in front of anyone, he wasn't ready to reveal his origin, and this powerful creature stepped forward to catch him as he collapsed. His evident weakness appeared to dispel the fury that had been so evident in pale green eyes. A. E. was not above overplaying it either. This man was much taller and immensely stronger than he was. It was actually pleasurable to swoon into his arms like some maiden. Almost like some fantasy roleplay. In fact, as a powerful forearm closed behind his back, A. E. had ideas flit through his brain. Things to explore, things he'd not met anyone who could explore with him in quite some time. But he didn't want to make his alien nature entirely clear, not yet, so he went still.

"Stark," said the man, his voice soft and a little bit indulgent. "I am aware that you're playing dead."

 _Damn._ "Sorry," he said, and slurred a little without intention. "I'm really not... not at my best, my core's practically dead, I-"

"What?" this was practically a hiss. A moment later, his knees were swept up over another strong forearm. Oh, _Jesus_. He really was being treated like a princess.

"I'll deal with your feeble jokes later," said the handsome prince, as A. E. lost the train of his own consciousness. "For now, let us find a place where I can fuel your..."

And then blackness ate the eddies of A. E.'s thoughts.

*

 _I can't believe I'm doing this,_ Steve thought. It was after dinner, and Tony had checked him into a hotel, and Steve had a martini to celebrate, and he thought Tony had maybe had something, and it wasn't as if he were forbidden from indulging in other pleasures. Loki was polyamorous, when he had interest in sexuality. Steve had been merely lucky that he was nearly always subject to the Emperor's affection, to his interest. He knew Loki wouldn't mind if he fell into bed with the genius super-scientist. That wasn't why he couldn't believe he was letting himself be pressed back on to the too-soft hotel mattress, Stark's beard rough against his lips and his teeth even rougher.

It was that less than five hours earlier, Steve had disliked this man. He'd seen him as arrogant, a bully who had to have his own way, to be the biggest fish in the intellectual pond. He'd known so many people like that. Now, after sharing an adventure and a dinner and a martini, and watching Tony's smile and the cute way it quirked at the corner, the way his eyes darted around the room, the way his tongue moved against his lower lip when he seemed nervous or was steeling himself for the right thing to say- Steve kept seeing endearing where he'd seen childish and arrogant.

And he kept seeing attraction when he realized just how effortless Tony's grasp on science really was. He'd never met anyone so intelligent.

He'd told Tony that, without thinking, in the car to the hotel, as they were looking over the final readouts on his device, and fifteen minutes later, he was pressed against the mirrored wall of the elevator, being kissed so thoroughly that he thought his mouth would always remember the taste of Tony's tongue, a strong hand clasped into the front of his t-shirt.

"I really, really like you," Tony breathed into his ear.

Steve said, "Why?"

Tony's hand stroked through his hair. "That's why," he said flatly. "That's why, Vanilla Sky."

"I have no-"

"Yeah, shut up." Tony kissed him again, and Steve was happy, happy to shut up. Tony didn't kiss as aggressively as his attitude would make it seem. He knew exactly what he was doing. His lips glided over Steve's lips, catching lower lip or upper occasionally between them, and sometimes very briefly between his teeth, his dark eyes staring Steve down to see if he liked it, that intensity, and clearly happy to see that Steve did.  His tongue was more eloquent than any speech as it moved against Steve's own. It convinced him that Tony did, really did, like him, and it traced every contour of Steve's mouth. Steve wasn't one to just give up and let himself be ravished, though. He kissed back, passionately, and tangled at that sweet tongue, sucked it gently between his lips.

Then the elevator doors opened, and they walked down the halls as if they had not just been kissing, and Steve felt drunk and had no idea why he'd just been making such passion with a man he'd scarcely met and hadn't liked for much of it. He'd had time to decide that this wasn't happening, that he was going to his cold hotel bed alone, and then the door to the room closed and Tony's hands were at his hips and he bit, gently, just below Steve's ear.

 _Okay,_ Steve thought. _Yeah, alright, I really want this_. But he didn't know why. He didn't know, even as his fingertips and then his upper teeth raked gently over the stubble near the edge of Tony's beard. He didn't know as he was pressed back into the hotel mattress, Tony's knee between his own. He didn't know as his fingers found their way under Tony's shirt, stroking and scratching their way along his warm, rather toned back, as they continued to kiss, so ravenously that Steve's lips were starting to feel raw. He didn't know, until he had Tony's shirt off and saw... saw the blinking blue light in Tony's chest, and saw Tony see him see it, and pull back, his eyes deadening, ready to make a joke or respond to some cruel commentary.

Steve didn't touch it. He wanted to, but he didn't know how Tony would react. He stroked the chest next to it instead, and smiled up at Stark, and said, "Most brilliant man I have ever met, confirmed."

And the look in Tony's eyes was _raw_. And he buried his face in Steve's shoulder and bit him, roughly, hard- but Steve was used to that. He tensed up at first, then the pleasure reached him and he moaned. And Tony muttered, rough and half-muffled against the skin of Steve's neck, "I'm gonna take your pants off now, unless you tell me to back off."

Steve traced his nails down the back of Tony's neck. "Don't rip the buttons off or anything," he said.

Tony didn't quite tear off his jeans, but it was a close one. He also didn't quite rip off his own pants, but his button flew across the room, making a weird solid thunk against the heavy draperies on the window. Kiss after kiss trailed its way down Steve's chest, and his breath heaved with it. Soft lips, the scrape of teeth over the solar plexus, further, further, down until he... actually... licked the short, well-trimmed hair above Steve's cock. The erect length twitched at that, thickened, and Tony dragged his fingertip along the bottom, trailing the vein.

He leaned in after, before Steve could say a word about teases, and the incredible heat of his mouth curved over the head of Steve's cock. That talented, impossible tongue traced the tip, and then pressed into the slit. Steve closed his eyes and whimpered, unsure if he loved that sensation or wanted to pull away.

Tony didn't give him time to think. He pressed his hot, tight lips downward, engulfing Steve's length, and it was silken, molten heat and the suction was incredible, and Steve fisted his hands in the sheets. Loki had taught him not to move, just to take what he was given, and Tony's sweet, delectable hums of pleasure, which vibrated along his length and set his blood even more aflame, made him more determined to hold himself still.

"You're amazing," he said instead, quietly. "I can... It feels so..."

Dark eyes flashed up at him for a moment, and then Tony's head bobbed down, and Steve felt himself hit the back of his throat and oh gods he'd never felt anything like that, so _tight_ , so... He dug his fingers tighter into the mattress, ignoring how it hurt, and held still as Tony's head bobbed, as he choked himself on Steve's cock.

Steve had long since lost control of the noises he was making. Desperate, wild, not loud but so intense. He thought he might feel tears in his eyelashes. He wanted this so much. He wanted to know why Stark was giving him this. And he couldn't hold out against the tight, bright hard suction, the pressure at the back of Tony's throat, was only able to give Stark a warning before he came, violently, his entire body shaking.

Tony pulled back, smiled, and stroked his thigh. "Now, you ready for my turn, Butterfly Effect?" he purred.

And then there was a sharp noise from Tony's bracelet, and he snapped away, turned his gorgeous back- marked with a few reddish lines from Steve's nails, and then cursed a blue streak. A moment later, Tony bent over and grabbed his pants, smacking his belt hard against the carpeted floor in annoyance.

"Fucking, fucking timing," he snarled. He turned back to Steve, who had just sat up in the bed, and held out a hand. "I gotta go," he said, and every word was like grinding glass. "Next time, I get to come, yeah?"

Steve smiled. "More than once, if I get my way."

"Square deal," Tony muttered, and headed for the door.


	4. I've Got A Bad Feeling About This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is uneasy, and realizes things aren't as fixed as he might like.
> 
> A. E. and Loki bargain. (In honestly, I just love writing A. E.)

Once he'd recovered a little from the shock of his mind changing so rapidly about Stark, snapping back almost like a rubber band, Steve realized that he ought to have asked what was going on. In all probability, it was something related to this Earth and it's villains, and therefore none of his business, but there was a minor chance it had something to do with the rift he'd come to heal, and if it was a side effect, he'd have felt better... helping.

Instead, as the pleasurable glow and lassitude after sex faded from him he found himself bored... dissatisfied, unsure if his behavior had been appropriate. These people, these Avengers... and this strange, damaged version of Bucky... they entranced him. He dragged his fingertips over the comforter of the bed he laid on and tried to still his chaotic thoughts.

He just wanted to be around someone.

Steve had never classified himself as lonely, or as feeling bitter, because there was always something fascinating to study, because someone- often Loki- was always around. Alone, with a hint of moonlight peeking through the almost-pulled curtains, he didn't feel remotely like sleeping.

He felt as if there were an indescribable itch under his skin, under his bones, maybe even under his soul. I can't leave it like this, he thought, and didn't know which 'it' he was thinking about.

Growling softly under his breath, Steve rolled off the bed, stripped and got under the shower, making sure to turn it up extra hot. As the scalding water fell over him, he expected to feel better, refreshed, clean, with an idea of what he wanted, but all he felt was hot water in boiling rivulets across his skin.

He washed, dried off, padded back into the hotel room and dressed again. Every gesture felt mechanical. He rubbed a hand through his short hair and tried to pull it at the back, the way Loki might. It felt okay, almost soothing, but it didn't lull whatever this was.

Steve sighed, stared at himself at the inconveniently-placed mirror across from his bed and then put on his jacket, stuffed the hotel key in his pocket, and left the room. Maybe dinner, or maybe serendipity, would show him what was wrong.

*

"Where the hell am I?" A. E. Stark awoke from what he would never, in a thousand years, describe as a swoon. He awoke predictably annoyed. He was lying on a narrow but comfortable mattress, in a dim room. As his eyes adjusted he picked up hints of furniture, which, if not expensive, at least showed a degree of class.

His voice sounded rough and hoarse when he spoke.

Without responding, the tall, elegant creature he half-remembered from earlier pointed at the table next to him. After squinting at the clock and the lamp, A. E. scowled and snatched up a short glass of half-melted ice water, which he gulped down until the cold of it made him shudder.

"This hardly looks like the sort of place to recharge me," he said, afterward, trying to keep his tone light, charming and mild.

He failed by a mile, but his rescuer did not seem to mind. Instead, the stranger quirked a cool half-smile that did not touch his pale green eyes. "I mistook you, at first, for the Stark from my Universe," he said easily, his rich and calm, almost silken tones belying the danger that lingered underneath them.

A. E. went immediately on edge.

The stranger continued, "His Arc Core is not powered by the energy of other universes. Yours is not based upon your own universe's magic, but something much beyond that." He paused and then flashed a bright smile, which showed white, beautiful but somewhat threatening teeth. "That is unprecedented in my experience. I am impressed."

A. E. carefully curled himself into a sitting position. He'd been somewhat aided in restoring his energy, but was still weak enough to feel dizzy as he abruptly sat up. "Is that so?" he said slowly, and rubbed the side of his jaw. It felt tense and sore, as if he had clenched it in his sleep. "To me, you don't seem impressed. You seem... threatened."

The armored creature, beautiful as he was, looked far more dangerous when his long fingers curled into a fist.

A. E. tried to ignore how it took his breath away, and lifted a hand in a placating gesture. "No, I don't mean threatened by me. Just... you hate that you don't know, don't you? How I do it?"

The fist did not unclench. Jade eyes stared back at him like icy stones.

He raised his other hand in the same gesture, no threat, no offense intended. He did not know if it was universal, but so far no violence or threat of violence had appeared beyond the visible signs of the other being's anger. A. E. said, "I'll show you." This provoked a slow hiss of breath back between the other man's teeth. He smiled, innocent as a snowflake, and added, "If you show me how you halfway recharged me without it."

*

Steve was sitting in an amiably comfortable booth in a Chinese place with garish, brightly burning signs in all the windows, and ratty wall scrolls and fake bamboo as the primary ambience. He was staring at a menu half in Chinese and half in English, which was astonishing and really rather nice, even if he had no idea what Salt and Pepper Pork was other than the obvious, when it had a spicy chile pepper image next to it.

He'd ordered Oolong tea and some fried pot stickers for an appetizer, but the food hadn't settled his nerves at all. And company hadn't either. When he tried to make small talk with the young waitress, he had felt the sense of discomfort even more strongly. He wished he had a way to contact Loki before the allocated time was over. He didn't.

Rubbing at his eyelashes, Steve pulled the 'burner phone' Stark had given him out of his jacket pocket. It didn't have the number of anyone he wanted to see. Not that minute. The Other Steve maybe, the Other Bucky... yes, either of them would have been welcome. Might have eased this itch, this ache in his gut. He stared at Stark's number and then put his phone back in his pocket. He liked Stark, but calling the man in the middle of a job was ridiculous.

Especially for half-baked intuition.

Steve shook his head, smiled when the waitress returned to his table, and ordered two of the chef's specials that sounded good from the menu description. She refilled his water, he refilled his tea cup, sipped absently and just as absently pulled his monitoring device out of his other jacket pocket.

He thumbed it on, and immediately flung a hand across his own mouth so as not to cry out in a public place. It was wrong. It was ridiculously wrong. They had closed that breach! More energy had been poured into it than he had ever poured into...

Steve blinked. "No," he whispered.

He stared at the tiny, faint blue lights blinking all over his screen, wiped his hand over his face, and wasn't hungry anymore. He really needed to talk to Loki.

He took a napkin and a small betting pencil for Keno, and mapped out the dots he had seen, with a notation of the total area and coordinates. Then he swept the device and the napkin into his pocket and retrieved his phone.

This time, he called Stark's number.

It picked up immediately. "Hey, that eager, Vanilla Sky?"

Steve felt his lips curl into a smile and quelled it. "No, Tony. We--- no, I-- I made a mistake. I need to talk to the All-Father."

There was a pause at the end of the line. "All-whatsis? Steve-O, you can talk to us, we can--"

"You can," he said firmly, "but I messed up. Maybe we... were too powerful all together. Or something else. But something's wrong. The All-Father can detect power shifts and rifts throughout the Universe much better than anyone else, and far better than my amateur device."

He ignored Stark sputtering as he called himself an amateur, even as he felt a warmth curl up inside him to hear it.

He continued, "I showed Loki the rifts the first time I-"

Tony interrupted him. "The All-Father-thingie is the King of Asgard, then?"

"It's more complicated than that but y-"

"Awesome," Stark said. "Calling him up right now. Where are you?"

Steve told him.

"Oh, that place does amazing Moo Shu Pork. Grab one for me to go."

And then Iron Man was gone from Steve's ear, and he lowered his phone to the table, still slightly shaking, and when the waitress came to refill his tea, he told her he needed his food to go. And added an order of Moo Shu pork. Though honestly, he couldn't imagine the crepes would heat up well.


	5. Broken Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is introduced to Thor and Loki (from this Universe). AU!Tony meets Daken.

The company from Asgard stood at the end of a long table where Steve was soothed by those he almost knew. He still stopped dead, unable to do anything but stare. His skin felt too tight, and he wanted, very much, to cry.

The other Steve, Cap, stopped at his side and placed a gentle, strong hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?" he murmured. "Is it hard to see Loki--"

Steve shook his head. "No. Well." He disliked lying to his alternate ego. "Yes. That's not easy. But not for the reasons you think. No, it's hard to see Thor."

"Thor?"

Steve bit his lip and nodded. "Where I'm from, we don't even talk about Thor. Loki mentioned him... once or twice... while drunk, but in our universe Thor died as a child. I just..." He blinked tears from his suddenly stinging eyes. "He is the one who deserves to see Thor as the Allfather. Not me."

Cap gave him a look, then a swift hug. A moment later, he felt Bucky, behind him (and he hadn't even known!) whirl him roughly into a second embrace.

"When's your Loki coming to get you?" Bucky growled into his ear, holding on so tightly Steve knew he'd have bruises, and knew he wouldn't care.

"Six days," he whispered.

"Tell them then. They need to know anyway, we all do. Then tell them how they can find the fucking problem."

After another backbreaking hug, Bucky released him, and he and Cap turned to each other. Steve watched for a moment, thinking how strange it was that he felt nothing but a tingly, slightly aroused happiness imagining them together. Neither of them were anyone he had known before, and yet at the same time they were. What they had been through was nothing he could understand, but he felt filled, constantly, with a love for both of them-- for Cap, as if he were a twin-- and Bucky, despite knowing he was not the Steve that Bucky loved.

He smiled faintly and stepped up to the table.

And then he wavered under so many eyes. So many powerful gazes. So much authority. His mouth felt dry, he swallowed, he flattened his hands over the wood of the table.

"In," he said. "In my Universe, I'm Steve Rogers. I know, I'm not... I'm not Cap. But I do other things. I work through Universes, healing holes in them. Stopping conflicts. My... my Universe isn't a nice one, like yours."

He saw flashes of defiance, of argument, in others' eyes, and lifted his hands. "I'm not saying it's easy here! But in... in my Universe, Earth is gone. And before that... a vicious, violent monster conquered Asgard. He destroyed it. In the flames, Odin and Frigga were murdered. Loki... my Universe's Loki... threw himself over his brother Thor and was burned to the bone, half his body ruined, his arm lost."

They were all staring at him now. Both Thor and the new, pretty, perfect Loki, pale.

Steve forced himself to go on. "He saved him, but it wasn't enough. Thor was enslaved. This creature... I don't know his name, nobody dares to speak his name, hurt Thor... k-killed him. Loki doesn't speak of it. Doesn't." He stopped to brush tears out of his eyes. "I'm sorry to tell you all of this. I just need you to understand. In my Universe, Loki is the Allfather. He's helped me solve these problems before, so I know y-you can--"

He stopped as he felt Thor's warm hand close around his shoulder, the other around his neck. "Are you alright?" he asked, in a golden, rumbling voice.

Hot tears would not seem to stop falling from Steve's eyes.

"He should be here, not me," he whispered, voice hoarse and crackling. "If he-- if he could see you, he-- you don't understand how long he's been alone--"

Thor was warm, but harder, more solid, even more muscular than Cap or Bucky. Steve could barely breathe, pulled tight against him. And he didn't understand the raw hitch in Thor's voice when he said, "You mean your Loki... loved me."

Steve shook his head. He grabbed biceps large enough his fingers didn't span them and gripped tight. "More than anything. But I--" he pulled away. He coudn't see anyone through filmed eyes, and that was doubtlessly better. "You have to use your powers. Sense where there is a tear in the world."

Thor paused. "I can-- do that?"

And the soft, exasperated voice was Loki's. "Come, let's sit down. I'll show you all what to do."

*

Emperor Loki opened his eyes.

His body ached. The Universe stretched out around him like a bruise. There was a truth at the blood of it, beneath the skin, that he wanted, but he didn't want the pain of piercing through it.

He missed his Steven.

He reached out, absently, to touch the artifact he'd left the young man and felt-- nothing. An emptiness. An abyss. The claws of his metal hand rent furrows in the arm of his throne and his lips curled back into a snarl.

He did not tolerate external forces troubling that which belonged to him.

Silk and shadows whispered as he drew himself to his feet.

*

God, it was boring. A. E. Stark still remembered the lingering kiss of the Asgardian prince, but even that wasn't enough. They'd hardly done anything, and the world was heavy, and he hated it. Hated that it wasn't his. Hated that it wasn't safe.

He wanted to do something horrible, something dangerous, something impossible. Just to prove that none of them had any power over him. That he, and only he, would always be in control.

He showered, cleaned his clothes-- and vomited in the hotel shower at the power it took- cleaned his teeth, had a cup of coffee, and went down to the street.

A man stood by an idling motorcycle. He was a little taller than A. E. and had light golden Asian skin, beautiful features, dark blue eyes. His hair was shaved at the sides and poured down his back in a soft mohawk. He smelled like heaven, if heaven was full of motorcycle races, and quality whiskey, and sex.

He turned the moment that A. E. took a step toward him. He smiled. He tilted his head. You want me, his eyes said. You need me, his scent said.

"You're fucking playing me," A. E. said.

The young man by the motorcycle laughed. "Of course I am," he said. "But the question is, Stark-- do you want a ride?"


End file.
